The experience of feeding [almost] the last of one’s quarters into dryers while watching the cloudburst in the parking lot outside the laundromat. I would have taken pictures of the rain dancing merrily sideways, the ripples and eddies in the water as it flowed north to the street, but I had just taken my tote and the camera out to the car not five minutes earlier.
I did catch a break when the dryers stopped. I shoved the dry stuff [none of which will require ironing] back into the laundry bag and mounded the still-damp stuff into the plastic hamper, where it resembled nothing so much as a 40 pound rectangular ice cream cone. And put all of that into a cart, which *just* fit under the eaves. Three quick dashes to the car in the finest of mist, and one last dash to take the cart back inside, and I was done!
It must have taken half an hour once I got home to hang all the shirts and five or six pairs of pants on hangers and suspend them from shower rods, towel racks, and sundry doorknobs. It’s a good thing that LittleBit won’t be home from backpacking until tomorrow night. Otherwise she might balk at how I have taken over her bathroom as well as my own.
I have an inch of ribbing and five rows of pattern on my first Monkey. On 000’s. Not really worth grabbing the camera for. Oh, how I wish that I’d had these needles when I was knitting Barbie clothes 45 years ago! I am rather enjoying working such tiny stitches; ask me again when I’m midway down the second sock!
The Nutella went backpacking, too. It must have. It's not on the counter, and I don't remember seeing an empty in the trash. I'll have to ask LittleBit the next time she checks in. But I suspect that the Nutella is traipsing about the mountains near Ruidoso, while her Nexium is languishing on the kitchen counter.
OK, so the Bill Bryson audiobook is history. I flew up off that couch, scattering yarn and needles, at hearing the F-bomb dropped twice in quick succession. I am *so* disappointed. I have a couple of his other books, and I don't remember language like that. Yes, he was quoting somebody, but really...
Frankenstein it is. Mary Shelley may or may not have known those words, but I'd bet the rent I won't see any of them in print! I listened to the first CD on Sunday night but was too tired after doing laundry last night to sit and knit. Some people have Frankenberries for breakfast; I'm going for a second course of the original.
- Four years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!